


As a moth to a porch light

by Agogobell28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agogobell28/pseuds/Agogobell28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unrequited affections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As a moth to a porch light

**Author's Note:**

> My VERY first HP fic. May be clunky at first. XD

There's nothing, she thought. Nothing towards her. There are no feelings for her outside of those of friendship, nothing except mutual respect and the common ground of being in the Order...

And yet Hermione Granger continued staring at the person sitting across the table from her at the kitchen table in the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place. There was something inside her that bubbled up like a forest spring after the thaw, something that left a spark in the tinder of her heart. But she couldn't explain it. She continued to eat her potato quiche, not wanting to disparage the Weasley matriarch's cooking, but halfway through chewing the mouthful, she noticed Ron's eyes on her. His gaze was tentative, yet intense, full to the brim of desire - the very same look she was directing at the woman facing her.

It had always been Ron, it was supposed to be Ron. That's what all the indications said, what Molly Weasley wanted to happen, what every other Gryffindor assumed, what destiny implicitly demanded. But a large percentage of Hermione's gaze was currently reserved for the woman with the ever-changing looks - Nymphadora Tonks, the Auror and Metamorphmagus.

The reason, Hermione rationalised, that she was looking at Tonks this way, was not out of desire or anything like that; no, Tonks was saying something interesting and funny, about something, she didn't know what, but it was not her words the bookworm was interested in (for once) - it was her expression. It was one of contentment, almost bliss, at the home-away-from-home that existed in the dank, dirty heart of old London, which Hermione could feel permeating her soul as well. Sure, the house was disgustingly old and rotten, and the evil thriving in the very walls would take ages to scrub out, but with the Order here, with Sirius and Lupin and most of the Weasleys and Harry, there was an infectious feeling of community and warmth. And that was the atmosphere that love thrived in.

Tonks was grinning sarcastically while listening to what Bill was telling her (something about Charlie and Percy getting into a fight when they were younger, Hermione wasn't paying much attention) and Hermione was smiling equally, half-eating, half-eavesdropping on Arthur and Molly's banter, and half-basking in the glow that the alternatively-styled Auror was exuding. Hermione was drawn in as a moth to a porch light - as soon as she thought of that analogy, she immediately started trying to find a less overused idiom. But it was accurate nonetheless.

But there was the problem of Ron, who was currently eyeing her more intensely than ever. He just wouldn't stop, would he? He would pursue her till her dying day, if it came to that.

Ah well. That was a problem to be worked out later. Meanwhile, Tonks was the center of her attention, and SO much so.


End file.
